


to see the sun again

by Sternenstaub



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Character Death, injuries, this has a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:01:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26681080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sternenstaub/pseuds/Sternenstaub
Summary: He would be just another witcher who had gotten too slow, made one wrong step and died alone. He hoped his brothers wouldn't search for him, wouldn't mourn him too long. There were so few of their family left. He hated to leave them.
Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 30
Kudos: 227
Collections: The Witcher Flash Fic Challenge #007





	to see the sun again

The pain was everywhere. His nerves had been set aflame and he could feel them eat at every part of his body. He was burning and the only thing he left to the world would be his charred corpse. His teeth grit together, enough to feel them break but the flames put them back together. He could feel his skin breaking, fighting against the restraints but the fire took the open flesh, the bleeding wounds and welded them together, leaving ugly marks for everyone to see. Signs of his pain and his weakness. 

Eskel woke up with a scream stuck in his throat. The trials had never truly left him and especially when he fell asleep while being in pain, he would dream about them again, experience every second again in detail, unable to get away. He felt the terror clawing at his insides, a well known feeling but not less panic inducing every time, when he noticed he had been buried. His breath came in short puffs, lungs barely able to expand under the weight that was slowly pushing the last bits of air out of his torn body.

Slowly, very slowly he remembered what happened. His memories were hazy and like he was trying to wander through a fog, his head was killing him. He must have hit it somewhere, but he couldn't remember where. His body hurt, from more than just being slowly squeezed to his death by… by what? Feeling his senses coming back, he tried to move, the thing above him gave away, it was soft, heavy as a rock but not as hard. A monster? When he managed to open his eyes, glad it was night he saw dark fur, dirty and bloodied. And the smell, like a wolf that had fucked a troll. He remembered! 

He had fought a pack of Wargs and they had been nasty work, his potions had been old, the last ones he'd had, and he had taken too much, worried they didn't work like usual due to their age. It looked like they did, he could still feel them burning in his veins, eating at his heart and liver.   
He had fought near a cliff and one Warg had jumped at him, catapulting them both from the road several meters down on hard ground. The Warg had landed a lot softer than he did but was dead nonetheless. Or so he hoped, it certainly didn't seem to move.

But Eskel would soon follow, he could feel his bones struggling to grow together again, could feel his blood leaving his body faster than he could reproduce it or his wounds could close. Witcher healing was much faster than human healing but some things not even his metabolism could cure. Like falling down a cliff and bleeding out. In the end, this was how they all died. He would be just another witcher who had gotten too slow, made one wrong step and died alone. He hoped his brothers wouldn't search for him, wouldn't mourn him too long. There were so few of their family left. He hated to leave them.

The sun was rising, he could feel its warmth and closed his eyes with a hiss, his headache and sensitive eyes didn't appreciate that additional sensation. He was still in high toxicity, could feel his eyes burning, knew they'd be black pits without any life left in them. 

When he had first seen this reaction on another witcher, he'd wanted to scream, he couldn't even imagine what it must look like to humans who were not prepared for this. But the few times he couldn't wait until his eyes had gone back to normal, he'd been stoned out of the villages.   
He opened them again. His eyes burned in the slowly growing light but he also didn't want to die without seeing the sun rise again for one more time. He knew it was nonsense, nothing would change just because he looked at the sun, even though it hurt his very being to stay awake and conscious. It wouldn't help that he looked at the rising star and felt the warmth on his face and wished himself to be warm and whole and happy, just for once, just for a moment.

He felt his eyes water, tears streaming down his face from staring into the light, from the strain of staying awake. The dead Warg felt heavier every minute and when he heard a bird sing to the morning he knew his time had come. He wouldn't last much longer. Eskel closed his eyes and thought about Geralt, about Lambert and Vesemir. He wished he could have met them again in the winter. His world went dark.

.  
.  
.

Eskel woke up to the sound of a crackling fire . Not the fire that had been searing through his bones, just a normal fire. He looked up and saw stars in the sky. When he tried to sit up a strong hand pushed him down, a face was above him. A beautiful face with bright blue eyes that looked at him with sympathy and warmth. He felt the potions still wreaking havoc in his veins, his body too weak to battle the toxicity, being focused on keeping him alive first and foremost. 

His ears didn't seem to work, he was sure the beautiful face moved their lips but he could barely see them, everything was hazy and he couldn't hear a thing. Panicked, he tried to sit up again. Not seeing and not hearing was dangerous. He could be attacked at any time, he would be easy prey. He had to get away. 

A hand pushed him down again, and he couldn't even struggle. The person was shaking their head above him and he saw white bandages wrapped around his torso, felt how they helped him breath. Broken ribs, his brain supplied, need a sturdy bandage or he might puncture a lung and die coughing blood. Moving was exhausting and hurt almost as bad as lying under the Warg had. He was too tired to battle the face above him. Apparently they didn't want to hurt him. And if they did indeed attack, he knew he had no chance to defend himself either way. 

He closed his eyes and wondered how anyone could look at him with so much feeling, with so much compassion when he knew he must be all battered up, blood and open wounds, eyes still black pits that would only slowly recede now that he had no white honey at hand and with his horrible scars marring his face. He looked dangerous, like a monster, now more than ever. Who in their right mind would help that? His body gave up trying to stay conscious, he was too weak to question his prolonged existence and just hoped he'd wake up again.

He did. His consciousness turned back when he felt water at his lips, it was warm and not especially pleasant but in that very moment it felt like the best thing he had ever tasted. Soft hands held his head and had Eskel been any more conscious he would have been embarrassed to need so much assistance. The face with the blue eyes came back and seemed to smile, they looked almost relieved? That couldn't be, why would they care for a witcher. He had met nice people on the path now and then. Kind souls who'd share their fire and food. But getting him out of a monster that buried him, tending to his wounds and now making sure he wouldn't dehydrate? That was a lot more trouble for a mutant than most people would willingly put up with.

Eskel noticed his hearing had gotten better and he could also see the face without the blurry haze now. The startingly blue eyes belonged to a human. Or an elf? He wasn't sure. He could see a man with brown hair that reached his chin and strong shoulders who looked at him intently. If Eskel had enough blood left, he might have wondered if witchers could blush after all, his eyes were so intense and entirely focused on him. His face was also very close, as he held Eskels body up so he wouldn't choke on the water. 

The face in front of him smiled at him, wide and open, when he managed to take a few more sips and tried to sit up. "Be careful, dear one. We don't want my work to go to waste, now do we?" a melodious voice asked, still close enough to Eskel that he could feel the man's breath on his face as he spoke. The man took a step back when Eskel managed not to fall over and for a moment he wished he was weaker and would get those warm hands back. 

But who was he kidding, he was a witcher, no person, human, elf or otherwise would wish to touch him, not in this state and not in any other. 

"I have to thank you." he managed to say, voice croaked and strained. He felt weak like a pup and hoped it didn't show. A warm hand landed on his arm, startling him a bit. Really, he heard Vesemir's voice in his head, how could a witcher get startled by something like that?   
"It's not a bother dear one, I just hope you feel better." Eskel nodded mutely, unsure how to react to the name. This was too much. Bandages, warmth, compassion, touch. His brain could barely follow. 

The man offered him a bowl, his nose said it was some kind of soup. And he realized he hadn't asked for the name of his savior. A warm hand on his arm, blue eyes looking deeply into his, showing no sign of discomfort about having seen his monstrous side, pitch black eyes, bulging veins that he wasn't sure had fully receded by now, scars and all and Eskel wanted to melt into the touch, to never leave those eyes. 

"Thank you…" he said, hoping the pause would convey his silent question for a name. The man smiled at him, well, he really had never stopped to smile but it felt different, more relaxed now. "You can call me Jaskier." Not his real name then but Eskel would take it. "Eskel of the wolf school." he introduced himself, refusing to be out of breath from that much already. 

Jaskier took his arm again with one hand and wrapped his other arm around his back. "Don't overexert yourself, dear one." he said, as he gently lowered him down when he had managed to eat half of the soup without passing out. And Eskel fell asleep again, against his will but his body was just not able to keep him awake anymore. He was sure he dreamed the hummed lullaby that never left him. 

"You're awake." Jaskier smiled down at him. How long had he been asleep, how long had they been here, where was even here? Eskel sat up, pleasantly surprised to notice his ribs hurt a lot less already. His body was already mending the broken bones. Jaskier beamed at him when he managed to sit without assistance. 

"I'm sorry, dear one. I hope I didn't make any mistakes with your bandages. While I do have some training as a healer, I'm by far no druid or mage. But I couldn't move you any further without risking your ribs to stab you and the next village is a few days away. That monster sure did a thing to them." Jaskier turned around, those blue eyes piercing into his very soul again. There was the man who quite certainly saved his life apologizing for not saving his life better. Eskel was astounded.

Sitting up further, feeling the bandage move with every breath but feeling a lot better than the last time he'd been awake, he addressed the most pressing issue at hand, "Where are we? How did you find me?" The blue eyes left his and he wished he hadn't asked.   
Jaskier took a lute Eskel hadn't noticed until now and played a few simple notes. "I was traveling through here, we're 3 days away from Dudno, which is really just in the middle of nowhere as well. I saw the carnage up on the road and a body down the cliff. And what can I say, I'm a curious person who just had to know if the man I saw buried under that monster was still alive." a sad smile met him and Eskel wondered what had hurt the man so much. 

As he watched Jaskier play with his lute, humming a song he recognized from taverns, his muddled brain put two and two together. Jaskier, a lute, a tavern song about witchers and monsters. "You're Geralt's bard!" he exclaimed and instantly regretted it, not just because of the headache talking loudly gave him but also for the fallen expression on his companion. 

Jaskier nodded, "I was. Not anymore. Our paths diverged." He looked down at his lute again, a wonderful piece with elven decoration and played something different, something Eskel didn't recognize. He had beautiful hands, long slim fingers that moved expertly. The whole man was beautiful, strong shoulders, soft brown hair moving in the wind, just long enough to be tucked behind an ear but not enough to be bound yet and eyes, his eyes were magical. Eskel could have stared at them for hours, had he thought to be allowed to. But he wasn't, he had to remind himself. This man may have known his brother, may be less afraid of witchers than the common person on the road but that did not mean he would want Eskel´s attention.

He noticed he had stared for some time and cleared his throat, "I heard about you, heard your songs. I have to thank you again. You're making the life of all witchers easier." Jaskier looked up at him, surprise in his face that melted into a warm smile. "You're welcome, Eskel. It's my profession to write down history and for too long has history been written by the victors, ignoring the ones that suffered, ignoring the very ones that helped without getting any recognition." he answered in a soft voice, almost as if he was confessing something. "Do you think you can stand up yet? It might be good for you to move around a bit." Eskel nodded, he recognized a change of topics when it was thrown in his face.

Moving however was far harder than he anticipated, his body clearly still weak and he wondered again how he could have survived this. Jaskier had to take his arm over his shoulder and Eskel reveled in the warmth, the easy touch that came with no hesitance . The man smelled of pine and honey and smoke and not a trace of sour fear, not even with a witcher almost twice his size hanging over his shoulder, stumbling around like a newborn foal. His feet felt like lead and his legs buckled but strong arms held him, warm hands made sure he wouldn´t face plant into the fire. After just a few steps, Eskel had to take a break, sitting down on the other side of the fire, having managed not even a full circle. 

Jaskier beamed at him, "Good job! Think you can hold yourself on a horse if we wait a few more hours and you eat something?" Eskel nodded, he would try. And if he fell down, who cared if there was one more bruise on him?   
A bowl of the same soup was put before him and Eskel could now tell it was rabbit with some spices and a few mushrooms. It tasted good, if a bit watery and was more than he would have been able to do by himself.

Jaskier introduced him to a grey horse called Pegasus, that surprisingly carried most of Eskel´s stuff already and helped him get up in the saddle, his ribs didn't thank him for it but he did not show any sign of discomfort. Or so he thought. "Tell me if it's too much, you might hurt yourself even worse if you strain your body now." Jaskier said, worry in his eyes. Eskel nodded, jaw pressed together so he wouldn't accidentally show any of his actual pain and after one last doubtful glance, Jaskier led the horse by its reins, making sure they moved slowly and the gait didn't jar Eskel too much. 

One hand at the horse, the bard couldn't play his lute but that didn't mean he couldn't make music, he hummed and sang to himself, very quiet but Eskel could still hear it. Some songs were well known others seemed new or to be just made up in the moment. "Are you composing?" he couldn't help but ask after the same tune had been repeated several times with very small differences when Jaskier abruptly stopped. "Oh, I didn't realize, I apologize, I'm sure it was annoying." His shoulders dropped and Eskel could smell salt and ashes. He had made the bard sad. But why? Asking about his profession should make him happy, should it not?

"Nonono, I was just noticing you repeated the same pattern, it sounded interesting. I was curious how composing worked actually." he admitted. And it was true, Eskel loved poetry and ballads but rarely got the chance to listen to them recited from a trained voice and even rarer he got the chance to see them created. And he enjoyed listening to Jaskier's voice. It had a soothing quality, deep enough to remind him of forests and mountains and with a range that showed his training. 

Jaskier looked at him with wide eyes and mouthed the word "interesting" before he started to laugh. A deep belly laugh that made Eskel hunch his shoulders. He shouldn't have asked, who would want to discuss the creative process with a mangled witcher in the middle of nowhere? 

Jaskier noticed and stopped laughing, a warm hand touched Eskel´s thigh. "I'm not laughing about you, dear one. I'm laughing about my luck of finding a witcher who is interested in my songs after twenty years of following one who couldn't give a shit. I'd love nothing more than to show you what I'm doing." And after Eskel nodded, he jumped into a long and very academic explanation about how melodies worked, the math that was behind composing and which part of a song belonged where. The sheer amount of information almost overwhelmed him and had Eskel not known quite a bit about ballads himself, he was not sure he could have followed. But that thought also put something warm in his chest, this man, clearly well studied, did not assume just because he was a witcher, he wouldn't know a thing, he treated him like an equal.

"... and that's why the method of Bramson is superior to that of Degorat. One emphasises emotions and the other is all about the right execution." he explained, moving his hands with every word. Eskel smiled down at him, this man was adorable. He loved music very much, that much was clear. When Jaskier stopped talking, Eskel noticed he had a pink tint on his cheeks, "I've fallen into lecture mode, have I not? I apologize, I'm sure you were bored." Eskel shook his head, "Not at all, I've read a few works of Bramson in my life but did not know he changed things so fundamentally with his views." Jaskier beamed up at him, blue eyes bright and so full of happiness it almost choked Eskel again. How could anyone look at him like this? 

"I knew you were a man of superior taste." Jaskier teased and they continued to discuss the theory of music and poetry until Eskel couldn't stop a wince from slipping through when Pegasus walked over a rocky slope. Jaskier noticed and frowned, "We should take a break." he said, not a question but an order. Strong arms once again reached out to him, helping him down from the horse and lead him to a tree to lean on. Jaskier plopped down next to Eskel, their knees almost touching, offering him a waterskin. The smell of pine and honey was still strong even after walking for hours. Eskel wanted to lean into it, to bury his face in Jaskier's neck and drown in the smell that told him this man was not afraid, not disgusted or lying to him.

He must have been more exhausted than he had admitted to himself, because he felt his eyes close and his head dropped onto something soft and warm while he was resting under the tree. His instincts didn't stir so he assumed it was fine. A soft melody was hummed next to him and he felt warm and safe. He dreamed of Kaer Morhen, of Geralt and Lambert sitting at a table, smiling at him when he entered the room. Of them playing cards together. 

When he stirred, he tried to hold the feelings the dream had given him, he was rarely allowed a respite from his nightmares. Eskel noticed his cheek was lying on something soft and warm and the smell of honey and pine under his nose told him the warmth must be Jaskier. He raised his head and saw that he had fallen asleep on the other man's shoulder. But no, he remembered them sitting farther apart, Jaskier must have come closer to let Eskel sleep more comfortable. His chest tinged at that thought, an almost painful tug at his heart made him realize that these feelings were beyond simple gratitude.

Kind blue eyes looked at him and a small smile graced Jaskier's lips. Eskel wondered if these lips would taste like honey and home. Before he could apologize for falling asleep and worse, sleeping on the other man, before he could even try to scoot away, a warm hand grabbed his calloused one. "Let's stay like this a bit more, if you don't mind?" Jaskier asked, cheeks tinted pink. Eskel could only nod and slowly, expecting the bard to laugh or flinch away every second, he put his head back on the warm shoulder. But all that happened was that the melody was resumed and Eskel could hear Jaskier's heartbeat join the song. 

They traveled for the rest of the day, taking small breaks every other hour and Eskel knew a 3 day ride would easily become 4 or 5 days like this but he couldn't really mind. He could feel himself getting stronger again, felt that riding took less energy every hour and Jaskier didn't seem to be in a hurry. They talked about musical theory, about poetry and art. Not about Geralt or witchers or what Jaskier had done in the last years. Maybe the time would come but this was too new, too raw yet. 

When they camped for the night, Eskel couldn't remember having been touched quite this much ever in his life before. Jaskier not only helped him move around, he also touched his arm, shoulder or thigh when he talked, held his hand just because he could when they took a break, always approaching slowly, as if Eskel would ever refuse the contact, as if he wasn't slowly starting to crave it. His life would look so much bleaker once Jaskier decided to leave. No, Eskel didn't mind at all that they would take longer to the next town.

The night came and with it a chill that belied the summery weather all day. Jaskier shivered and Eskel noticed that he must have been sleeping on the other man's bed roll until now. When the bard got the bedding down from the horse and laid it out, Eskel made sure not to look at it longingly, his body ached and he would love nothing more than to lie down and relax but he had no right to expect it, he could meditate and heal almost as well, Jaskier needed the sleep and the warmth more than him. The man looked tired, bags under his eyes and drooping shoulders showed that he had been walking all day and taken care of Eskel most of the night before. He probably had not slept at all.

They ate some dried jerky, not talking much after an exhausting day and soon Jaskier yawned, curling himself into his bedroll. He looked expectantly at Eskel, "Would you like to join me? Or do you prefer to meditate?" he whispered, blue eyes barely glancing at him. Was he afraid Eskel would say yes or no, he couldn't decide. But his body hurt and Jaskier had been amenable to them napping under that tree close together, so Eskel hoped for the best. And if he got a memory out of it that could help him in the bleak days to come? Nobody would ever know.

Eskel nodded and scrambled over to the bedroll, still a bit unsteady on his legs but managing those few steps on his own. Jaskier waited for him, holding the blanket up for him to slip under. "I'll try my very best not to jar your wounds." Jaskier whispered at his back, when they jotted together like two missing pieces. A stranger at his back, Eskel should have been alarmed, tense and uncomfortable but the steady smell of honey and pine calmed him, he knew he did not need to be afraid of Jaskier. His back met a warm chest and an arm was wrapped carefully around him, pulling the blanket over them both. Lying on his side wasn't perfect for his ribs but they had healed enough for it not to be pure agony and feeling the hot puffs of breath on his neck and the steady heartbeat drumming through him was worth any kind of discomfort.

When Jaskier tried to pull his arm back Eskel took his hand, he did not know where this sudden bout of bravery came from but he didn't want the arm to pull away. He felt Jaskier huff a small laugh into his neck and the smell of honey got stronger. "Tell me when I hurt you." Jaskier whispered and wrapped his arm around his torso, barely enough to touch, so very careful not to hurt. Eskel´s heart felt like it'd jump out of his chest any minute now. Still, he fell asleep faster than ever.

When he woke up a warm arm was still wrapped around him, lying on his waist, so it wouldn't touch his ribs and warm skin touched his neck. The bard was still fast asleep, deep even puffs of breath tickled Eskels skin and when he touched the hand lying around him gently, Jaskier curled closer in his sleep. Eskel tried to memorize this feeling, to burn every little detail into his mind, the honey smell, the warmth seeping through their clothes, how his breath tickled the small hairs on his neck. 

When Jaskier stirred, he swiftly let go of the hand but felt it grabbed again right away. "Is comfortable, stay?" a sleepy voice mumbled, burying his face deeper between Eskel´s shoulderblades. And who was he to decline that? Eskel stayed still, not daring to move less Jaskier realizes who he's cuddling up to, certain the other man just enjoyed the warmth and feeling of a body, any body next to him.

When the sun rose, for yet another time Eskel hadn't dared to hope to ever see, Jaskier seemed to fully wake up. The body behind him started to move and to his shock a small kiss was pressed into his nape. "Thank you for indulging me, dear one." Jaskier whispered, before he let go of Eskel and rose, helping Eskel stand up, whose ribs were not happy about sleeping on the hard ground, with a hand and a warm smile.

Breakfast was some more jerky and water from a nearby stream, Eskel almost managed to mount Pegasus on his own and they traveled much like the last day. Jaskier talked a bit more and sang his songs, asking for Eskels opinion freely and often. They made less breaks than the day before and at night Jaskier waited for Eskel to join him again, holding the blanket up in silent question and showing him a bright smile when he didn't hesitate. They slept back to chest and Eskel thought maybe he'd only get those 4 days like this but that this was worth almost dying for.

They needed two more days until they reached Dudno, a small town that barely reacted to them, people were too preoccupied with their own misery to take notice of a witcher and a bard. Just a few people stared and pointed at his scars. He tried not to let it hurt him. Eskel had recovered almost entirely at that point, riding Pegasus without any aid, switching with Jaskier, so he could ride his horse as well. Which was Jaskier's request, he wouldn't hear of it when Eskel argued he could easily walk all the way at this point.

They booked two rooms at the inn, the barkeep eyeing Eskel with distrust but happily taking Jaskier's coin. It was late and they both went to their rooms. Eskel´s heart fell when he saw the single bed, heard Jaskier beyond the wall but couldn't reach him. Knew he had no right to expect anything, that all those touches and glances didn't mean anything. Jaskier had been kind and helped him, nothing more.

With a sigh, he sat down on the bed, it was clean and surprisingly soft but also cold. He knew he'd try to touch the arm who had embraced him the last few nights in his sleep, would wake up confused why he couldn't find it. And then he'd remember he was alone again. Would stay alone again.

Eskel could hear Jaskier hum and play his lute in the next room, could hear him turn around, unable to fall asleep, much like himself. He could have sworn he heard his name uttered once through the thin walls. But that couldn't be, his brain was playing tricks on him. It was late already, way into the night when he gave up. Eskel got up and left his room. He knocked hesitantly at the next door, too quiet to hear had Jaskier been asleep. He could hear someone scramble up fast, could hear Jaskier rush to the door, and hoped beyond hope that it was not his mind playing tricks on him, that Jaskier was just as eager to see him

The man opened the door and the smell of honey and pine greeted him. Blue eyes stared up at him, reflecting the light almost as much as his own. Shit, he had forgotten about that, his eyes would glow in the low light, like a cat staring at it's prey but Jaskier didn't seem to mind, the honey smell got only stronger as Eskel stared at him for a moment before he remembered himself. Clearing his throat he was once again thankful he couldn't blush. Jaskier looked at him and smiled so warm and gently that Eskel felt like he'd melt into a pile of goo. With the door left ajar, Jaskier walked back to his bed, glancing back once with a raised eyebrow as Eskel still stood in the open door, before he lied down, holding the blanket up for Eskel to join. 

He couldn't believe his luck. Too selfish to ask any questions, he quickly closed the door and walked to the bed, almost stumbling over his eager feet. Jaskier huffed a laugh and bright blue eyes full of mirth met his. Eskel joined him under the blanket, facing him this time. The honey smell was everywhere and a soft hand with lute calluses at the fingertips gently trailed down his face, stopping at the scars for just a moment, paying them no extra attention and Eskel was glad for it. He put his hand on top of Jaskier's and smiled back, hoping it'd look not as dopey as he felt and not as scary as he knew it was. 

"Let's not pay for two rooms tomorrow, dear one." Jaskier whispered and gently kissed his lips. Something in Eskel soared, there would be a tomorrow. He kissed back hungrily, nibbling on the bard's lips, tasting the honey and a bit pine, feeling their warm softness. He wrapped one arm around Jaskier, pulling him closer until they lay flush against each other. Could feel muscles move against his own, their legs wrapping into each other and hear Jaskier's heart beat faster. "I think we also don't need a second bedroll." he dared to say and got a small laugh and another kiss for it. "I think you're right there, dear heart."

**Author's Note:**

> so, I joined this prompt flash fic challenge and the very first prompt was the black eyes witchers have. And what can I say, I´m a big sucker for them. And I´ve been wanting to write an Eskel fic for some time now.


End file.
